


All the Birds of the Air

by aderyn



Series: The Bird Diviner [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor John, Fractured Fairy Tale, John is a Saint, Sherlock is difficult to love, and live with, but we all build our nests differently, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a nest on the kitchen table. A nest of twig and twine and bud. It has the claw of a bird in it. It has the membrane of an egg in it, cerulean. </p>
<p>John says what the bloody hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Birds of the Air

**Author's Note:**

> [Mydwynter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter) said to me: “And then John runs to throw his arms around the rambling boy, around a body made of twigs, and is comforted, enveloped in the wind-tattered coat.” So this is for you, Crow!
> 
> Inspired (loosely and rhythmically) by the English fairy tale ["The Magpie's Nest"](http://www.authorama.com/english-fairy-tales-39.html), in which the magpie takes the other birds to school, sort of.

 

There’s a nest on the kitchen table. A nest of twig and twine and straw and bud. It has the claw of a bird in it. It has the membrane of an egg in it, cerulean.

John says what the bloody hell.

John says I hope that’s evidence.

Sherlock says obviously.

There’s a feather on Lestrade’s desk at the Met.

There are five feathers on Lestrade’s desk at the Met.

Stuck to the underside of a cheese pastry.

Lestrade takes a bite anyway.

Sherlock says obviously.

Sally says, shit, you didn’t say about the feathers freak.

Anderson runs to the toilet.

There’s a ball of twine in the men’s toilet.

There’s are six sparrow-skeletons in the men’s toilet.

That must have tumbled out of Sherlock’s pockets.

Anderson shrieks like a little maid.

Sherlock says obviously.

There’s a nest on the kitchen table that Sherlock tears apart with his fingers and twists into his hair until the straw bits make him look to John like a little crow dusty bird-urchin not yet fledged but already the bright eyes see the very tips of the hairs of the legs of insects.  

Sherlock says what am I missing.

Sherlock says what am I missing.

Sherlock says stop breathing I’m thinking.

Don’t you need some tea, says John

Don’t you need a sleep, says John

Don’t you need some sense, says John.

Sherlock flaps, black and white, black and white.

Sherlock shouts at John.

Sherlock shouts at Lestrade.

Sherlock shouts at Anderson.

And says he is the dimmest creature ever to peck out of an egg.

Sherlock covers the Met in down and nearly causes a flood and Lestrade sacks him from the case and Sherlock flies out to Catford and finds a blade under a railbridge over the Ravensbourne and pins a murderous naturalist to a table at the Black Goose until John arrives and Lestrade grins and Anderson sulks and Sally smirks and Sherlock limps and hops to the cab on his one good foot and crashes and preens and picks and broods all the way home.

John stashes the Browning.

John ices the ankle.

Sherlock sinks his hands in the twists of yarn and stick and claw still on the kitchen table.

Sherlock slumps, puts his head under.

Sherlock says nothing.

Sherlock says nothing.

Sherlock takes his head out and says, how can you care for me John.

And John put his hands under the coat, put his hands under the black of the wing, put his arms over the hardwood twig of skeleton and green winter-bud and soft feather that are his friend and says,

_(Oh my mate)_

To bed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "All the birds of the air came to the magpie and asked her to teach them how to build nests. For the magpie is the cleverest bird of all at building nests."--Joseph Jacobs, "The Magpie's Nest"
> 
> There is no Black Goose Pub in Catford,  
> as far as I know  
> which is not so far.


End file.
